


The Romantic Implications of Umbrella Sharing

by mangneov



Category: No Straight Roads (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Flirting, J falls in love with every man he meets I stg, M/M, OOC, Pre-Canon, Rain, for obvious reasons, hints of internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangneov/pseuds/mangneov
Summary: A fic that, despite the title, has no actual umbrella sharing but plenty of romantic implications.
Relationships: Neon J. (No Straight Roads)/The Mystery Mural Guy, yes I'm being serious
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Romantic Implications of Umbrella Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> So this is what authors mean when they say "pure self-indulgence"

"It's raining," Bernadotte says.

J looks up at him. 

They're at Bernadotte's place in Akusuka right now, hunkering down after a lengthy meeting with the other artists. J is still going through the budget for it. Bernadotte finished Akusuka's costs awhile ago—his district expending so little energy compared to the others and all—and has been working with his instrument ever since. 

J prides himself in being focused, but he's been unable to keep himself from glancing up during the past hour. There's something so pleasant about watching Bernadotte care for his equipment. He's a man of gritty and impressive stature, but the way he handles his saxophone now is so delicate and meticulous and practiced. 

"Is it?" he asks, a second too slow.

Bernadotte looks away from the window. 

J's quickly come to love his condominium. It's far smaller than Barraca mansion but has just as much grandiose purely from the effort of the man who owns it. The window Bernadotte has turned away from is floor to ceiling, and an impressive height, all draped in deep red curtains that are pulled away to reveal the dark grey sky. It's raining, lightly, as Bernadotte said. 

His lounge is dark right now, though one could turn and be met with a sudden light from the kitchen behind them. The lighting and the rain work together to create that moody, transient evening that appears only once in awhile. Those kinds of evenings are ones that J usually hates, but as Bernadotte stands and returns from the window to the couch, he certainly doesn't feel unhappy.

"Should I be sending you home?" Bernadotte asks. His fingers rearrange themselves along the neck of his saxophone as he bends to return it to its case. J hip-bumps it closer and away from where it's laying at his flank. 

"If you wouldn't mind," he accepts brightly. 

He should've been home awhile ago, really. The boys are hardly rambunctious when left alone, but they hate to be by themselves for so long. White always reports as such.

He calls a car, and then the two of them tidy the lounge quickly, exacting as J tends to be and well-kept as Bernadotte is. There's also only a few stacks of paperwork, folders, binders, and a plate-set to put away. J's observed that the man never leaves a meal unfinished. He somehow manages to always cook the exact right amount, even if he goes back for a second plate. J is a little jealous of that, the wine he'd polished off and the dinner he'd made and eaten earlier, and allows himself a brief second of indulgence by adding to the imaginary blueprints of a new head. 

A few minutes later, papers in order and placed in the lining of his bag, he waits for his host by the hall. Bernadotte plucks his hat and coat from the couch. The ensemble is vintage and sleek and J always admires the cut of it. He's grown especially partial to the hat, which Bernadotte seems to wear everywhere no matter the weather or how badly it clashes (which, to be fair, isn't often).

The two of them take the lift downstairs and out to the lobby in amicable silence. It doesn't take long, but the timing is just lengthy enough to pose a problem.

"Shit," J mutters. "I thought we were too far inland for monsoon season."

Bernadotte chuckles. "Nah, Akusuka's just like this. 'Moody', as you would say."

He definitely would. J isn't sure how he missed the change in weather considering the immense noise of it. The rain has gone from a pleasant sprinkle to a violent pelting. Water has begun to slink down the roads, and buildings have begun to look more grey than brown just from being behind the sheets of rain. And it's all so loud. Thundering despite the absence of a real thunderstorm. J shivers from memory.

"If I go out in that I'm going to fry," he bemoans. A lesson learned the hard way.

"I'll walk you out," Bernadotte offers. He shuffles his coat off his arm and drapes it over his shoulders, arms extended slightly, all in preparation for presumed protection.

J tilts his head, considering. "What about my legs?"

"Mm, good point."

The coat goes from Bernadotte's shoulders to his own. J is nowhere near short, but the fabric folds marginally at the floor. A hand angles the hat at one side of his monitor and J feels a thrill as it and Bernadotte's shoulder obscure part of his vision.

"Rain's coming in from the east. I'll cover you 'till you get to your car, ta?"

"Good thinking. Very strategical."

The dash from the lobby to the car can barely be called that. J is just as hesitant of the water at his feet as the water at his head, and they shuffle and slide and trip over in a manner most ungraceful. But Bernadotte stays close to him, broad and side stepping and doing an excellent job at being a barrier. He's soaked through and shivering for it, but he holds his ground all the way to the car and J can't stop the warmth that overcomes him. 

Bernadotte ushers him into the backseat. He's truly drenched. His shirt is dark enough to remain opaque but it clings to his body. Rivulets run down his face and neck and collect in his collarbones, and he's still being soaked further. His hair, normally so stiff and styled, has collapsed and gone black from water, and it's unlikely he can see anything with that many droplets on his glasses. Yet despite all this, he maintains that half-smile that is slowly becoming familiar as he poses as the shield in the crack of the door. It's that disregard for himself that makes the whole thing as hot as it is. 

J's non-existent stomach sharpens in reparation. He clears his non-existent throat weakly and that seems to defog his head.

"Ram, why did you park across the street?"

He's had two rotating drivers for the past three months (a luxury that is still strange in every way) and has labeled Ram as the young and excitable newbie.

"I'm real sorry, sir!" Ram shouts. The rain is even louder under a metal roof. "I came over as soon as you called, sir, I promise you that! But there's flooding on that side, 'cause the street tilts at a twenty three degree angle, and I just had this car serviced yesterday. I'm sorry if it made things a hassle!"

"Kid, you're fine, I was just asking." A repeated sentiment. "Mr. Bernadotte kept me dry." He flicks a thumb back and a few droplets land along the leather interior. "Mostly dry."

"We should meet in Natura next time. Don't get weather like this, though I might bring it along with me."

It takes J a second to realize he's joking. About the meeting in Natura part, that is.

"I like the rain. Loved it as a kid. Just can't stand in it now."

Bernadotte's eyebrow appears from behind one of his lenses. He's starting to drip on the interior of the car.

"You should head back," J says; sudden, rushed, apologetic.

"Shoulda brought my umbrella with me. Foresight's a bitch." He grins. "Just stay the night next time. I've got room for you."

J's systems flush. "Ah?"

"What's the point of having a guest room if you aren't gonna use it, ta?"

"Oh, good point," J says, who had discovered that Barraca mansion has eight empty guest rooms and what must be the cause of his dejection. "I'll have to take you up on it. See Akusuka in its...could you call it 'autumn glory'?"

Bernadotte chuckles; his mission a success.

"Don't throw what you can't catch. And—" he holds a hand up and J pauses in removing his coat, "—just keep it 'till the next meeting. You've still gotta get inside Barraca, yeah? Pay for the dry cleaning bill and we'll call it even."

"Really?"

"I have others, y'know."

"Of course," J agrees, then laughs and lets himself relax into his seat. "Alright then. It'll be yours again soon," and, feeling brave, "It's a nice coat, though. I might have to keep it."

"Get it tailored and it might suit you," Bernadotte replies.

"A-ah! It-it is a nice color..."

Bernadotte's lips close back into that half-smile and he pats the roof of the car twice as he pulls away. He takes his hat, at least, as he goes. It's a miracle he's not shivering with how drenched he's become over the course of their mindless conversation. 

"I'll be seeing you then. Tell the bots I said 'hello'. Good seeing ya, Tam."

"Oh, it's Ram, sir!" his driver shouts, and J jumps, remembering just now he was there.

"Gee, sorry Ram. Never been good with names," Bernadotte apologizes, hand at his neck.

"Not a problem! I don't think we've ever actually met before."

Bernadotte's smile increases and he parts with a wave, and J just barely catches himself to return it before the Akusuka charter is turning around and walking back over to the complex lobby with the gait of an only mildly perturbed and otherwise nonchalant wet dog.

"He's nice," Ram pipes up from the front. "He's on the late night talkies sometimes, Mr. J. Can't really hear him through the static but I never would've guessed. They call him Blue Crab, y'know, sir."

"Oh, I do," J says, rearranging the wet folds of the coat. The material has soaked up a lot of water but holds it pretty well. Still, they'll have to air out the humidity and residual droplets in the car later. What a pain. "His club's called the same thing."

"Really!" 

"Mhmm."

"You been yet?"

The car pulls out into the street and there's a splash against the window as the rain patters on.

"No, I haven't. I've been meaning to, but I'm not much of a fan of jazz anymore."

"Well I love it, sir! If I wasn't so set on Metro and you guys I think I would've moved to Akusuka by now. You'll have to let me drive you by this Blue Crab club sometime."

J hums in thought, a quick little one-four-five seven. "I'll get you tickets, kid. Bernadotte's so nice and all that I'm sure he'll be down for it."

"It'd be cool if you did, sir, thank you!"

J looks out the window; at the weather that as already lightened, at the rushing greys and blues and golds that pass by too obscured to decipher, at the occasional figure hidden by the brim of an umbrella, and at the sun that has decided to make its slow return; and he just shakes his head with a frank sort of acceptance. 

**Author's Note:**

> So the first fic I give Bernadotte a speaking role in is, of course, something slashy. I really apologize—I started fleshing out his personality and his district, and then his music and mannerisms, and then his relationships, and then before I even knew what happened I was imagining him and J doing cute stuff together. Whoops.
> 
> I feel like this is the fic in which I should clarify that not all my NSR works necessarily take place in the same universe. If that makes sense. My ideas are always shifting and I don't want to confine myself to one timeline. So yes, this doesn't take place in the canon of my other stuff, discounting a few headcanons (unless you really, really want it to).
> 
> I can't imagine these two have a huge audience but I have plans for more of them in the future. Ram, at the very least, will be returning in some capacity. Ram-centric multi chaptered fic on the horizon: Adventures of Neon J's Chauffeur! ...or maybe not.
> 
> And of course, Bernadotte's name comes from The Solution by Urza. Sorry for using it so much Urza.


End file.
